


Son of the Sea

by Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction



Series: The Monster Series Collection [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Allusions to Pregnancy, F/M, Happy Ending, NSFW, Selkie!Steve, Supernatural Creatures, There's a baby, Vaginal Sex, non-modern setting, selkie!steve/reader - Freeform, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 07:05:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16154069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction/pseuds/Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction
Summary: After losing your crew- your family- and waking up in a town you’ve never been to before, you find yourself going through life in a bit of haze while you recover. Your only solace is the sea, which you spend any time you can spare staring longingly at.That is until a mysterious, handsome blond makes a sudden appearance in your life. This stranger isn’t like the other townsfolk. Unlike them, he seems to understand, if the spark in his eye when he looks at the ocean is any indication.





	Son of the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only, smut, vaginal sex, unprotected sex  
> A/N: This is the first Monster!Character one shot for this Spooktober season! 
> 
> If you want to request another Monster!Character, you can drop a comment on any of the fics in the Monster!Series Collection, giving me a prompt and telling me what Monster!Character you want to see! Please don't request Monster!Character I've already done (for example, demon!bucky or vampire!steve). You can request any character from the following universes: MCU, Mass Effect, X-Men, Harry Potter, Supernatural, and Dragon Age. Requesting something doesn't mean I'll choose it, but it doesn't hurt to ask!

> As I walked by the dockside one evening so fair  
>  To view the salt water and take the sea air  
>  I heard an old fisherman singing a song  
>  Won’t you take ma away girls me time is not long 
> 
> Wrap me up in me oil-skin and jumper  
>  No more on the docks I’ll be seen  
>  Just tell me old shipmates, I’m taking a trip mates  
>  And I’ll see you some day in Fiddler’s Green _  
> _

_The sounds of waves against the hull keeping time. A single fiddle carrying a joyful tune across the deck and beyond. Feminine voices singing along. Flashes of bright smiles and bright eyes. Lamps lighting the wooden deck beneath a star-spotted sky._

> Now Fiddler’s Green is a place I heard tell  
>  Where the fishermen go if they don’t go to hell  
>  Where skies are all clear and the dolphins do play  
>  And the cold coast of Greenland is far, far away
> 
> Wrap me up in me oil-skin and jumper  
>  No more on the docks I’ll be seen  
>  Just tell me old shipmates, I’m taking a trip mates  
>  And I’ll see you some day in Fiddler’s Green 

_Gamora swinging her reluctant sister around the deck in a wild dance. Darcy luring Jemma and Jane away from their charts and books. Wanda looking ethereal as she pulls the melancholy notes from her beautiful little instrument._

> Where the sky’s always clear and there ne’er a gale  
> Where the fish jump on board with a swish of their tail  
> Where you lie at your leisure, there’s no work to do  
> And the skipper’s below makin’ tea for the crew
> 
> Wrap me up in me oil-skin and jumper  
>  No more on the docks I’ll be seen  
>  Just tell me old shipmates, I’m taking a trip mates  
>  And I’ll see you some day in Fiddler’s Green 

_Brunnhilde and Jessica singing along slightly off-key, off duty and piss drunk. Maria and Melinda sharpening their blades and cleaning their pistols, straight-mouthed and mirth-filled eyes. Sif watching from the crow’s nest, smile dancing on her usually dour face.  
_

> When you get on the docks and the long trip is through  
>  Ther’s pubs and ther’s clubs and ther’s laddies there too  
>  When the boys are all pretty and the beer it is free  
>  And ther’s bottles of rum growing from every tree 
> 
> Wrap me up in me oil-skin and jumper  
>  No more on the docks I’ll be seen  
>  Just tell me old shipmates, I’m taking a trip mates  
>  And I’ll see you some day in Fiddler’s Green

_Helen swaying gently near the door to the hold, her usually-immaculate bun messy with little escaped hairs blowing in the salty sea air. Sharon, Daisy, and Captain Natasha all crowded around the helm, talking and laughing in the light of the lamps._

> Now, I don’t want a harp nor a halo, not me  
>  Just give me a breeze and a good rolling sea  
>  I’ll play me old squeeze-box as we sail along  
>  With the wind in the rigging to sing me a song
> 
> Wrap me up in me oil-skin and jumper  
>  No more on the docks I’ll be seen  
>  Just tell me old shipmates, I’m taking a trip mates  
>  And I’ll see you some day in Fiddler’s Green

 

You stared out at the expanse of grey-blue in front of you, not actually seeing the oranges and reds of the sunset slowly dipping below the horizon. Nor did you feel the tears slip down your cheeks and into the water. The tide was so far out that the largest wave barely reached the ground ten feet below where you sat on the long pier, feet dangling over the edge.

Ten weeks you’d been cooped up in the hospital of this tiny town. Ten weeks of being coddled and drugged and suffering without the feeling of your ship rocking you to sleep. 

Ten and a half weeks since everyone you ever cared about died when the ship capsized in a storm. 

“And I’ll see you some day in Fiddler’s Green…” 

The sound of someone else singing startled you so much that it took you a moment to realize it hadn’t come from someone on the dock. You swiveled, alarmed, wincing as the movement tweaked your still-healing ribs. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean ta startle ya.”

You frowned and peered over the edge of the dock, eyes widening in surprise at the sight below. You rubbed the unshed tears from your eyes, but that didn’t change what you saw.

A man stood below and, for all you could tell, he seemed as surprised by that fact as you did. His bright blue eyes glittered in the slowly dying light of the sunset, its rays catching his damp, straw-colored hair and setting it ablaze with orange highlights. A damp shirt clung to his chest, so thin it was practically see-through. An equally wet pair of beige pants clung to his legs, letting you see perhaps more than you’d bargained for. 

Your initial surprise having subsided, you frowned down at him. “It’s… alright…” you said hoarsely, only realizing at that moment how long it had been since you last talked with another person. 

He smiled hesitantly, the brightness in his eyes fading slightly. It was a minor change, but he suddenly looked wary. “I just… heard you singin’. Fiddler’s Green is one of my favorites.” 

You snorted. “Not so sure if you can count that as singing.” 

He shifted from one foot to the other and shrugged, smile getting a little tight. “Either way. I s’pose I just didn’t expect it to hear it on land. Usually only sailors-”

“Did you need something?” you snapped, his sudden appearance grating on your nerves, still worn as raw as the first day you’d woken up on land. 

His mouth closed with a nearly audible snap, and he looked from you to the ocean, obviously uncomfortable. That you could intimidate such a large man would normally have amused you, but you weren’t in the mood for company. 

“I, uh… Sorry, you were crying and I… I wanted to help…” he seemed to struggle with finding the right words and you were sure he’d almost swallowed his tongue once or twice. 

You stared at him for a moment or two. “Why’re you wet?” you asked finally, eyebrow raised.

That made a light blush spread across his cheeks. “Well… I was swimmin’, you see…” he trailed off, unable to meet your eyes. 

“In your clothes?” you asked flatly. 

He looked back at you, panic widening his eyes and pulling his muscles taught. “Ah, well… no, but I forgot to bring something to dry off with,” he explained hesitantly, eyes glued to the ground. His face was only a few feet below you, so you could easily see the blush spreading to his cheeks. 

You expected him to explain his peculiar actions, but when no explanation was forthcoming, you let out a sigh and took pity on the man. He seemed more or less harmless- size aside- and he was the first person whose presence didn’t grate on your nerves. “Get up here, then, and watch the sunset with me. Consider it payment for startling me.” 

His blue eyes flicked up to you and you swore you saw his irises flash like an animal’s in the night. But no, it must have just been a trick of the shifting light. 

He smiled, though, and made him look so innocent and happy that you nearly found yourself smiling back. After a quick nod he was off, jogging awkwardly a couple dozen feet up the shore until he was able to easily haul himself up and onto the dock. You felt the vibrations in the sturdy old wood planks as he walked over to you, but your gaze was already trained on the ocean again, squinted ever so slightly against the glare of the sunset. 

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” you asked distractedly, watching as the waves hundreds of meters/yards out undulated and churned in a way that showed easily the ocean’s beauty and power. 

When he answered, you were surprised by how earnest and heartfelt his answer was. “Yes, she is.” 

You turned to look at him, once again caught by surprise by this man. He was staring at the horizon with the same gleam you knew was in your own gaze. You didn’t mean to stare, but he must have sensed it, because he turned to look at you, smile once again slowly slipping from his face. “What?” he asked, confused and hesitant. 

You tried to assuage him with a smile, but it ended up being more of a grimace. Giving it up as a bad job, you turned back to the view, letting it be a balm on your aching soul. “You’re the first person in this whole town that seems to understand,” you admitted as the sun finally sunk below the horizon. 

His gaze lingered on you for a few beats more before he finally turned away again, giving you that one small privacy. “There’s a reason you’re not…” he paused, frowning, the furrow in his brow visible even in your peripheral vision. Finally, “-sailing?” he asked, though it was really half-statement, half question.

“Yes,” was all you could answer, not letting yourself linger on those thoughts now that it was getting dark. 

“But you don’t want to return?” That question was asked in earnest this time. 

You scoffed and found yourself answering even though this stranger had no right to know about the facets of your life. “Of course I do.” 

Something in your tone must have caught his attention because he turned to look at you again, frown marring his beautiful face. “I don’t understand,” he admitted, almost regretfully.

You tore your eyes from the purple sky, settling on the man who shifted almost nervously at the attention. “My old crew got taken by a storm and our ship- Siren’s Marvel- got pulled down by the swells. I managed to cling to a piece of debris and floated all the way here, but…” You bit your lip against the encroaching thoughts. Somehow, it was easier to talk to him about everything. He seemed like a man who had seen a lot. At the very least, he seemed to understand the sea. “I asked the townspeople to inquire with neighboring towns, hoping against hope that a few of my crew had made it. Turned out to be a damned fool’s errand,” you whispered bitterly, words nearly swallowed by the sound of the waves. 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and with such sincerity you had no trouble knowing he meant it. 

You frowned and didn’t answer, having heard enough platitudes over the last two and half months that you were tired of acting as though you were alright with what had happened. The man didn’t press and you took a small comfort in that. 

“What’s your name?” you murmured after some time, eyes finally opening completely as the sun’s light finally faded and the sky turned a deep purple.

He didn’t respond immediately and you were about to ask if he was alright, but he got out a tentative “Steve” before you could.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye before looking away again. “It’s nice to meet you, Steve. I’m (Y/N).”

“(Y/N).” He said your name as though tasting it and you fought the urge to shiver. It… sounded _nice_ coming out of those lips. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” You could hear the smile in his voice and you couldn’t help the tiny smile that worked its way onto your face.

* * *

**Steve’s POV**

Seven tears. His ma had always warned him about it, but even as he nodded and agreed to stay away from the shores where humans lived, he couldn’t help but think it was just some kind of superstition. Humans- the same frail things that needed ships to stay alive in the ocean- couldn’t possibly call one of his kind with just a few tears, right?

He’d grown up believing that all his life, but that was before he felt the pull for the first time in his life. Even as his mind kicked into overdrive with fear and trepidation he swam onward through the ocean water, propelled swiftly by his flippers and webbed feet. If any human saw him they’d think him a simple seal, but he was what the humans called a “selkie.” Before he knew it he was looking at a human-made construct; a “dock” if he wasn’t mistaken. He couldn’t say the word in this form, but he’d heard enough sailors talking that he was fairly sure he knew what they were by now. 

A single human female was sitting on the edge of the dock, hunched over her own legs, tear tracks still visible on her cheeks as she gazed out at the horizon. Bandages were visible on her hands and feet, which dangled out over the slowly receding tide. 

What were the chances, he wanted to scream. What were the chances she’d shed exactly seven tears, and not ten minutes later when the ocean would be too far out to receive them? 

Still, his nature compelled him forward and he nearly flinched as he felt his pelt grow looser the closer to the shore he came. His body was changing as he swam until his flipper- no, his hand. His _human_ hand- reached the ocean-smoothed pebbles of the shore. 

His other hand immediately went to grab his pelt which was quickly slipping off his shoulders and he marveled for a second at the dexterous digits that allowed him to grip it so easily. He stood unsteadily, taking a moment to gain his balance on his new, long legs. With a quick glance around he confirmed that she was the only human in the area, and wrapped his pelt hastily around his waist. He dare not go near her in only his pelt; surely someone who stared at the sea with such ardor would know the tale of his kind. She’d steal his pelt and keep it hidden from him and he’d never be able to return to the sea. 

Frantically he looked around for human clothes he could wear and immediately spotted some hanging on a line of rope outside a nearby house whose windows were dark. He wasn’t sure if they’d fit, but he had to try. 

It was only until he got closer that he realized they were nearly dripping with water. He narrowed his eyes, fairly sure that humans didn’t wear their clothes wet, but he didn’t have many options. He slipped them off the line and tugged them on with a little difficulty, losing his balance at least four times while he tried to get on the ones that went over his long legs. They were much too short but thankfully fit over his hips. The shirt followed a moment later and, now clothed and assuredly the peak of subtlety, he hid his pelt in what looked like a largely disused shed of wood, vowing to return the moment he helped the human woman. 

He didn’t walk onto the dock, not at first. He was still nervous and being so close to the ocean was something he felt he needed at the moment… but then he heard her singing- though it was more of a distracted whisper- and he couldn’t help himself. 

“Wrap me up in me oil-skin and jumper.  
No more on the docks I’ll be seen.  
Just tell me old shipmates, I’m taking a trip mates-”

“And I’ll see you some day in Fiddler’s Green…” The sound of his own voice startled him, the surprise that he could form the words to the song he’d heard human sailors sing so many times nearly flooring him. Even more stunning, though, was the face of the woman as she turned to look at him in surprise. 

_Oh_ , he thought quietly. _No wonder her tears called me. She’s perfect_ , he thought, nearly forgetting to breathe. 

* * *

**Your POV**

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, but eventually you realized you were cold. If the gentle tremors coming from Steve every once in a while were anything to go by, he was freezing in his damp clothes, too. 

“Come on, then,” you said as you stood a little stiffly, stretching once you finally got to your feet. 

Perhaps you underestimated how cold he was because he looked a bit like a newborn deer as he clambered to his feet… then toppled over and on top of you. 

You were surprised that the fall didn’t hurt as much as it should have. You opened your eyes (which you didn’t remember closing) and found yourself mere inches/centimeters away from Steve. Your breath caught in your throat, but Steve’s eyes widened and he quickly clambered off of you with a torrent of apologies. It took you a split second to realize you weren’t hurt because he’d carefully wrapped his arms around you and used them to break the fall while also keeping his huge body from crushing you.

“I’m so sorry, that was horribly clumsy’a me. Are you hurt?” he asked, looking you up and down frantically for any sign of [new] injuries. 

A short laugh left your lips and Steve stilled immediately at the sound, eyes widening in surprise, but you were still too amused by his fussing to care. “’M fine, you big simpleton,” you got to your feet with a little more ease this time, surprised that the fall hadn’t aggravated your ribs at all. Steve looked only slightly less troubled by this news but dutifully got to his feet once more with a little more grace than the first attempt (you took a precautionary step away just in case). “How’s some food sound?” you asked, already walking towards the center of the small town without waiting for a response. It was late, but you were sure the tavern would still be open for at least another hour or two. You still had enough money for a few days before you’d need to start going to the church for food… perhaps it’d be best if you traveled to a town with a larger harbor. The chances of finding a crew that was taking on new blood- and a woman, at that- was slim to none. Natasha had been a particularly rare breed of woman who’d put together a crew of only women. It had been the best time of your life, but it was gone now. You knew they’d never forgive you if you let yourself rot away in some podunk middle-of-nowhere shithole, though.

“Food?” Steve asked, sounding almost childlike in his curiosity. 

You turned to glance at him over your shoulder, smirk on your lips. “Yeah, food. Don’t worry, I’ll pay. Just this once, though. As a thank you for being such nice company.” 

His frown only deepened, though. He seemed to be confused by what should have been a relatively straight-forward sentence. He settled with, “But I didn’t do anything.” 

You turned back to the road, not wanting to trip over a stray rock or branch, and shrugged. “You listened. Didn’t prod like everyone in town does. And…” you paused, frowning, “you love the ocean. That’s good enough for me.” 

He didn’t respond to that, but you could practically hear him screaming questions at you in his head.

The sound of the rowdy tavern crowd reached you before you turned the corner and you hummed absently to one of the tunes Stanley was banging out on the old piano- one of the old diddys he played at least five times a night that you pretended to hate but secretly enjoyed. 

The moment you stepped inside you were greeted by a chorus of hellos from nearly every patron in the tavern. All of the regulars were in, but you didn’t pay them any mind beyond a “hello.” They’d learned weeks ago that you could drink any of them under the table and beat them with near 100% efficiency at cards and had long stopped betting any money against you. They were part of why you’d been able to go so long without a job, but that was no longer an option. 

Their eyes lingered a little longer on Steve and his slightly damp and too-small clothes earned a few laughs, but they by and large left the two of you alone. 

Steve sat in the chair across from yours at the small, rickety table in the corner, eyes flicking everywhere and lingering nowhere for any more than a few seconds. 

“What, never been in a tavern before?” you asked when Stanley finally took a break for a minute. 

Steve froze and his eyes flicked to you with guilt reminiscent of a child with their hand caught in a cookie jar. It was such a startling juxtaposition to how large and physically imposing he was that you couldn’t help the amused smirk that tilted up the corners of your lips. 

“Would you believe me if I said I haven’t?” he asked sheepishly. 

You barked out a laugh and once again Steve’s expression shifted, though you couldn’t quite place it. “After a reaction like that? Yes, I would.” Steve relaxed slightly at that, only to tense up again when the barmaid came around and took your orders (two pints of ale, a loaf of bread, and whatever reputable slices of meat they had left, which ended up being pig). 

Once she was gone he relaxed again, and you finally took a moment to look at him. The glow of the lamps in the tavern cast him in a warm light, not unlike that of the sunset. He was muscular with almost no tan, which was odd for how muscular he was. Your inner musings were interrupted by the arrival of food, but Steve was too preoccupied by the plates of food to get awkward again about being around another person. 

“This is for me?” he asked, pointing nervously to the plate in front of him which had nearly twice the amount of food as yours. 

You nodded and began to cut into your meat, and he glanced from you to his plate. You nearly choked with laughter as he picked up an entire piece and took a huge bite of pork. It was a struggle to chew and swallow without laughing at the look on his face. Joy. Wonder. He stared down at the pork as though it had been given to him by God himself and he tore through the rest of the slice in seconds. 

Thankfully, he finished chewing and swallowing before he spoke, but it was a close thing. “This is delicious,” he said with wide eyes, looking so earnest and happy you couldn’t help but smile. 

“I’ll make sure Vanessa passes the compliments onto Wade. He loves getting compliments from anyone and everyone,” you said as you tore a chunk of bread off the loaf and slathered the soft, fluffy parts in butter. Steve watched you with rapt attention and the second after you bit into the chunk of bread he copied you. You nearly choked in earnest at the sound he made, heat rushing to your face. The moan was nearly sexual, so much so that a few heads turned your way in both curiosity and judgement. 

“Uh, Steve?” you asked, trying valiantly to keep your tone neutral.

“Mm?” Steve mumbled, face nearly packed to bursting with bread and meat. 

Your eyes widened slightly with just a little bit of horror (surely his cheeks would burst at this rate) and you cleared your throat with a swig of ale. It was like watching an animal eat. “Maybe, uh, cool it with the noises? And don’t inhale your food. It’s not going anywhere,” you said as kindly as you could mange. 

Steve paused and swallowed thickly and, as if finally sensing all the stares he was getting, glanced over his shoulder nervously. Curious eyes swiftly returned to their food or friends, but it was clear from the way Steve’s face tinged pink all the way to the tips of his ears that he’d seen. 

“It’s… very good. The food,” he muttered as he began eating a more sedate pace. Instead of shoving an entire half slab of meat in his mouth (or attempting to) he picked up a knife and, with a little bit of difficulty, cut a smaller piece off. He still forewent the fork though, instead choosing to use his hands. 

You couldn’t help but smile at him and nodded. “Yeah, I agree. I’ll be sad when I can’t eat Wade’s food anymore.”

Steve paused, chuck of bread halfway to his mouth. “I don’t understand. Are you goin’ somewhere?” The little crease between his brows was more endearing than it had any right to be. 

You shook your head. “No, but I’ve been in town for a few weeks. Had to repay a lot of people for saving my life, then once I was well enough the father at the church kicked me out, so I’ve been renting an upstairs room from Vanessa. No one in town will play cards with me anymore. It means I’m essentially out of money.” 

Steve’s frown only deepened though. “They charged you? For helping?” 

You raised an eyebrow at that. “Yeah, I was nearly dead. It took a lot of time and medicine to save me. It’s not surprising that they made me pay.”

“And that’s common here? To make someone pay for saving your life?” He looked downright confused now, and maybe a bit angry.

You shrugged and swallowed a swig of ale before answering. “Aye, it’s very usual.” It dawned on you then that his reaction was odd, even for someone who lived on land… and that you’d never seen him before. Your eyes narrowed slightly but you tried your best to appear casual. “Where are you from, anyway? Haven’t seen you before- though that might be because I spent so much of my time in the apothecary’s and then the church.” You watched him closely while trying to appear that you weren’t and buttered the last of your bread as nonchalantly as you could. 

But Steve immediately stiffened like a board. “I, uh…” He seemed at a loss for words, but you simply waited patiently for him to answer. It wasn’t a difficult question, after all. Finally, after a nearly uncomfortable long stretch of silence, he muttered “Ireland?” He sounded so unsure that you knew he was lying, but the delivery was just too funny. 

You struggled to keep a straight face. “Was that a question or an answer?” 

He fidgeted nervously with his mug. “Dublin,” he said instead, with only the slightest tremor this time. 

You only stared at him harder, though. “Don’t have an Irish accent.” 

He just shrugged, though, relaxing a little. “It’s where my ma said she was from, but the sea’s been my home for as long as I can remember.” 

No matter how hard you looked you didn’t find any signs of that part, at least, being a lie. A nod, then, “I could tell that much. Only those who’ve lived at sea look at it the way you do.” 

That made the spark in Steve’s eyes return, a genuine smile finally returning to his face. He did, however, change the subject with the finesse of a raging bull elephant in an antiques shop. “So, cards? What’s that?” 

You barked out a laugh that had a few patrons at the nearby tables giving you dirty looks. “You’re a sailor, but you don’t know cards? What kinda ship were you on? Some fancy trade vessel where the only other people were businessmen with sticks up their arses?” Steve’s face went a brilliant shade of red, but that only made you smile wider. “Ah, whatever. Doesn’t matter. Cards. Like this,” you pulled a well-loved pack from your back pocket and slid them across the table. “You play games of luck and skill with them, but sadly for everyone in this town, I was taught how to play by Melinda and Gamora who were-” You choked mid sentence, words dying in your throat. Without thinking about it, you’d begun referring to them in the past tense. Your crew, your family. 

“It sounds like you were very close with them. I’m sure they were wonderful people.” 

You were in such shock that you’d nearly forgotten that Steve was there. Even as you gave him your best, bravest smile, you felt your eyes begin watering. “Sorry, s’cuse me.” The plates and mugs clattered loudly as you hastily got up from the table and all but ran for the door, not even hearing Wade yelling at Stanley to, “Keep playing, you beautiful old bastard!” and Stanley’s immediate “I brought you into this world and I can take you out, sonny!” 

By the time you looked up again you were back on the dock, but it was so dark, with the moon hiding behind the clouds, that you couldn’t see the waves. Judging from the sound, though, the tide was in. 

With the roar of the tide to muffle sounds and the blanket of darkness to hide you from view, you turned your face to the cloud-covered sky and cried. Hot tears ran down your cheek, only to be cooled by the sea breeze before they fell to the rough, weathered planks below. Your voice, too, was swallowed by the wind and carried to the horizon. 

It could have been seconds, minutes, or hours- time had no meaning to you at that moment- but eventually you felt the planks beneath your feet vibrate from something other than the pounding waves below. 

“Go away, Ness. You got customers and I’ve taken enough of your time and pity,” you croaked, hoping she’d hear you and just, for the first time since you’d met her, listen.

Instead, two arms that were much too large to be Vanessa’s came into view and reeled you into a chest that was much too vast and muscular to be even Wade’s. 

Being hugged by a person you’d just met- and being able to know who it was with such certainty- should have alarmed you, but you merely sagged in his arms and use the sleeve of your itchy cotton shirt to wipe the tear tracks from your eyes. “Whaddya want, Steve?” you asked, perhaps a bit too grumpily, because he immediately sounded nervous.

“Sorry, was this wrong? I know people usually smile when they do this and you were making those hurt noises and leaking from your eyes so I just- acted and- Sorry, I’ll-” he babbled and made to move away, but you reached up and held his arms firmly in place. 

You gave his forearm a gentle squeeze and shook your head slowly, lips twitching up in an aborted smile at his description of crying. “No, s’alright. It’s… nice,” you admitted quietly. 

A pause that nearly had you shifting nervously, but then he gave you a gentle squeeze. “That’s… good.” His breath ghosted against your hair, recognizable even though the wind was constantly playing with it. The two of you stood there for a while, listening to the sound of the waves, before he spoke up again. “We can stay here for a while, if you want?” he asked. 

The offer alone quieted some of the noise in your head. “I’d like that,” you muttered, suddenly so grateful for this mystery man’s sudden appearance. In such a short amount of time he’d made you feel more at ease than any of the townsfolk had managed to in weeks. 

What you didn’t expect was for Steve to pick you up with what appeared to be no effort at all and sit down on the dock, placing you carefully between his legs. You sat stiffly while he shifted for a second or two more before finally stilling then turned to look at him out of the corner of your eye. It was hard to see him with the lights of the town behind him, but he seemed to be staring almost expectantly at you. You gave him a confused frown, but you couldn’t see enough of his face to try to puzzle out what his agenda was. Instead, you trusted your gut (which you’d been listening to the entire time you’d been around him) and turned your back to him, slowly leaning backwards until your back met his chest. 

The moment that you touched the wind finally managed to clear some of the clouds from the sky and the moon peaked out between them. It was nearly hard to look at it after the near pitch blackness you’d been in since you’d left the tavern. 

“It’s beautiful,” Steve breathed behind you, and you couldn’t help but agree. As though spurred on by the initial moving of the clouds, the sky was rapidly clearing, allowing you to see the vast expanse of stars glittering like jewels in the velvety darkness of the night. 

You couldn’t help but agree, but the more you looked, the farther back your head tilted until, finally, it hid the hard surface of Steve’s shoulder. 

He tensed at the same time you did, both of you turning your heads just enough to look at each other, matching looks of surprise on your faces. His ocean-blue eyes were just barely visible in the light of the moon and he was staring at you with such intensity that you could barely breathe. His gaze flicked down to your lips, then quickly back up to your eyes. Even with the palpable energy simmering in the nearly nonexistent space between you, you somehow knew he wouldn’t make the first move. 

So you surprised both of you by closing the distance between you and sealing your lips against his in a kiss. They were as soft and warm as they looked, but the simple contact wasn’t enough. The need for more was so strong it was as though you were drowning without it. Before you knew it you’d turned around to face him, fingers buried into the fabric of his shirt and chest pressed up against his. It was clear from the way he was pulling you closer that he didn’t object to the sudden turn of events. In fact, he was the one that deepened the kiss by nipping at your bottom lip and slipping in his tongue when you gasped in surprise. 

You broke apart panting from the lack of air and leaned back far enough to get a look at Steve, who looked just as surprised, pleased, and rumpled as you felt. 

“If it’s all the same to you,” you heard yourself saying, “I’d like to take you back to my room and make some time with you.” 

He went even redder, but his expression turned tentatively hopeful and eager. “Does that mean more of this?” he asked, unsure. 

You smirked and leaned forward, kissing a line from his mouth to his ear, where you nibbled gently on his earlobe and shell of his ear. “This… and more,” you breathed, smile widening at the way his whole body shivered when you spoke.

But a second later a surprise yelp escaped your mouth as Steve stood, cradling you close to his chest as though you weighed nothing, and made a beeline for the tavern, which couldn’t come into sight quickly enough. 

And then, for the first time since you woke up in this town, you weren’t thinking about your crew. In fact, you were hardly thinking at all. 

* * *

When you woke up, Steve was sitting at the edge of your bed. 

You blinked the sleep from your eyes and yawned, tugging the blanket back up from where it had pooled around your waist in the night. “Come back to bed, Stevie, ‘M tired and you’re warm.” Your eyes were already sliding shut again when he spoke.

“(Y/N).” 

Something in his voice set your teeth on edge and you sat up slowly, eyeing him warily as your body and mind tried to wake up as quickly as possible. 

It was only once you were upright that you realized he was hunched over on himself, holding something between his hands. His ocean blue eyes gazed up at you, more nervous than you’d ever seen him. 

Between his sweaty palms was a pelt. 

A seal pelt. 

“ _Oh_ ,” you breathed as everything fell into place in your mind. 

“You know what this is.” It was a half question, half statement, and all you could do was nod. “You know what I am.” Another nod from you, but the way he said it finally made you look up from the pelt. He was staring at you as though you were the larger, inherently more dangerous of the two people in the room and, you supposed, he was right to an extent. You’d heard plenty of stories of humans taking selkies’ pelts away from them and binding them to the shore.

He was looking at you as though you were a powder keg placed a little too closely to a torch. 

As slowly and carefully as you could you got out of bed, goosebumps immediately rising as your bare skin was subjected to the chilly air of the inn. The fire had gone out at some point in the night and the freezing morning air was doing little to help the situation. You walked over to the small trunk in the corner and knelt down, making yourself look as small and unimposing as possible as you moved a few of your belongings around. 

Finally, when you were satisfied, you looked up and beckoned him over. He had obviously been watching you closely and, although he’d put his pants back on, you could tell he wasn’t completely unaffected by seeing you nude, even if he was too nervous to act on his body’s obvious interest. 

“You can keep it in here, if you want. How much longer do you have before…?” you asked, looking up at him as he towered above you.

But your words only seemed to make him warier. “You’re going to keep my pelt?” The question was as accusatory as it was full of betrayal. 

You shook your head quickly and scooted a little farther away (not that the room was large enough for you to go very far). “There’s a lock on the trunk, but you can keep the key. I don’t really have anything of value, anyway. Nothing as important as your pelt, at least. I’d never keep you from the sea,” you said, hoping your earnestness seeped into your voice. You pulled said key from where it sat on the little table near you and held it out to him, open-palmed. The worn loop of hemp string attached to it hung limply between your fingers. 

He stared at you a moment longer before he reached for it with a trembling hand and gave you one last cautionary glance before he knelt down in front of the trunk. He tested the key before anything else, which you understood, even if it hurt. Satisfied that the key worked, he carefully folded his pelt and gently set it in the space you made, giving it one last fretful pat before he closed the lid and locked it. 

He stared at the lid for a few moments before looking over at you, some of the tension finally leaking out of his shoulders. 

“Will you come back to bed now?” you asked with a small hopeful smile. 

But Steve only looked confused now. “You don’t care?” he asked instead of moving.

You shrugged and finally stood, purposefully turning your back on him to crawl back into bed. “I care, but not in the way you’re thinkin’.” You burrowed under the blanket and turned your head to look at him, wishing fiercely that he was beside you instead of so far away. 

His hand reached up and gently clasped the key, already subconsciously worried about its security. “I don’t understand.” 

You smiled sadly at him. “I lost the sea. My home. My family. I can only imagine what that would be like for _you_. I won’t subject you to the same… but I know that means _I’ll_ lose you. And that’s something I care about. Since the moment I woke up, you’re the only thing that’s felt real.” 

Steve’s conflicted expression cleared in an instant at the admission, morphing into something you were afraid to put a name to with his impending departure. It did, at least, get him up and towards the bed. You stopped him with a hand and tugged at the waistband of his pants, annoyance at the garment clear as day on your face. His resulting laugh was music to your ears- deep and throaty and bereft of the anxiety that had colored your morning thus far. 

He stripped them off lightning fast and crawled into bed behind you, plastering himself to your back and placing gentle kisses to your neck. His lips brushed the bruises from the night before and you sighed as his arousal made itself known in the form of his erection pressing insistently against your ass. 

“I’m teaching you more positions than this one.” _Before you leave_ hung unspoken in the air, but you knew Steve understood. 

“But?” he murmured against your skin as his hands mapped the expanse of your body, slowly but surely moving downwards. 

His fingers finally found what they were searching for and you gasped as they ghosted over your clit. “But that’s for a little later,” you breathed as he parted your folds and lined himself up, sliding in easily from how wet and open you still were from the previous night (which really only ended a few hours ago). 

You both moaned as his hips met your ass and you shivered as he mouthed wet kisses along your skin and up to your ear. “I can’t wait, Starlight.” 

* * *

**One Year Later**

“(Y/N)! (Y/N), where are you?” 

Steve’s voice carried through the open windows, audible over the sound of the ocean. You had half a mind to cuss him out but didn’t, knowing it’d only make it all the more likely that-

A pitiful, sad whimper came from the crib next to you and you groaned in earnest as it turned into a full blown cry. You reached into the crib and pulled your precious baby girl to your chest, murmuring sweet nothings as you bounced her gently in your arms. 

Steve burst through the door a second later, hair swept every which way from the wind, and skin more tanned than it had been a year ago (likely from all the time he spent on his fishing boat). 

You glared at him, though you knew it wasn’t as intimidating as you’d intended. “What is it, Stevie? I just got Sarah to sleep and-” 

Steve looked apologetic, but whatever it was was urgent because he glanced over his shoulder before looking back at you. “I’m sorry, Starlight. But there’s something you really gotta see,” he said insistently. 

You raised an eyebrow at your usually calm husband (calm as long as he didn’t see anyone being malicious or disrespectful, then all bets were off) and, adjusting your hold on Sarah, walked over to the door. “What’s got you all in a huff, Sweetheart?” you asked curiously, absently placing a kiss to his cheek as you passed him. 

Steve was practically vibrating with excitement. You hadn’t seen him this thrilled since you’d finished the fishing boat together. “Well I’ve been askin’ around and when Bucky told me about-”

“You’ve been talking to that siren again? He’s dangerous, you know,” you said with narrowed eyes. 

Steve frowned but decided not to comment, instead barreling on with his explanation. “I was tellin’ him about you and Sarah and how I met you and then he told me-”

Steve kept talking, but you stopped listening the moment you crested the hill. There, in the village’s tiny harbor, was the Siren’s Marvel, bobbing happily in the waves. 

Even from here you could spot Natasha and Nebula’s fiery red hair as well as Sharon’s bright blonde that reflected the sun like nothing else. The other dark haired women were lounging on the deck and you could hear their conversations faintly on the wind. 

“They’re alive…” you breathed, hardly daring to believe your eyes. 

It wasn’t until you felt Steve gently taking the precious bundle from your arms that you looked at him, snapped back to the present. 

“Am I hallucinating?” you asked him with wide eyes. 

Steve smiled gently and shook his head. “No, I, uh… when Bucky said that he’d seen a ship and crew matching the description I gave him, I begged him to do a favor for me and, well…” He looked over at the ship, his expression a bit clouded, a stiff smile plastered to his face. He looked back at you, smile growing a bit at your obvious excitement. “Go on, I know you want to go see them.” 

You stared at him for a moment, shifting from foot to foot. Finally, your enthusiasm and curiosity got the better of you and you were off like a rocket, barreling down the path from your cabin to the dock, heedless of the fact that you didn’t have shoes on. 

By the time your foot hit the first plank of the dock you could hear the voices on the ship pick up in volume. As always, Sif’s eyes were the sharpest, her cry of surprise alerting the other sailors instantly. You were barely halfway to the ship before they were running down the gangplank and running towards you, various looks of shock, surprise, and elation on their faces. 

You were engulfed by all of them (except Jessica, Natasha, Nebula, Maria, and May, who looked on from the deck of the ship with undeniably fond smiles), each clamoring to touch you, talk to you, reassure themselves that you were real. 

You got half-dragged, half-carried onto the deck of the ship, tears leaking out of your eyes.

They were alive. They were here. They cared.

And Steve had-

“Um, hello.”

Every person on board turned to face Steve and it was only you and Captain Natasha that didn’t draw weapons. 

“Siren’s Marvel is no place for men,” May said tersely. “Get lost, blondie.”

Steve turned his big blue eyes on you, confusion and hesitation lining every feature. In an instant, you could see the fear in his eyes. That you would leave and take Sarah with you.

You pushed past your former crew mates and stood beside Steve, taking Sarah carefully from his arms. He didn’t relax at all until you laced your fingers together with his. 

“Uh, everyone. This is Steve, my…” you paused, frowning. He wasn’t your husband- you never got married. But “father of my child” didn’t cover it, either. Lover wasn’t right; your relationship was too intimate for something so simple. “He’s mine. And I’m his,” you said finally, bracing for the worst of it. “And this is Sarah, our daughter.”

They all stared at you as though you’d grown a second head, looking from you, to Steve, to the little baby girl in your arms, before, one by one, they turned to look at Natasha. 

You and Steve looked at her, too, but Steve froze the moment he got a good look at her. “You didn’t tell me your Captain was a siren! No wonder Bucky knew her!” he hissed in your ear.

You stared at him in shock, not knowing what to say.

Natasha’s head tilted to the side and she stepped forward past the crew which was looking between Steve and Natasha, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. 

She stopped a few feet away from you and stared Steve up and down, considering. Finally, she turned to look at you. “You’re not keeping his pelt, are you?” she asked quietly enough that the other women couldn’t hear, voice carefully neutral. 

You quickly shook your head, trying your best to not jostle Sarah. “Of course not!” 

Steve pulled the leather necklace and attached key which unlocked the chest in your house from his tunic. “I’m the keeper of my own pelt.”

She turned her attention to him. “And yet you haven’t left for the water. Why?” Her green eyes were staring shrewd holes through his head.

Steve stared at you for a second, eyes growing soft. “Because I love her and my daughter,” he responded resolutely and with such obvious tenderness that your heart clenched involuntarily. 

“But you love the sea.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement of fact. 

Steve just nodded, though.

“We both do,” you said, longing clear in your voice. Ever since you became pregnant you hadn’t trusted yourself on the water and then, once she was born, Sarah needed so much care and attention that you didn’t have time to join Steve out on the boat.

Natasha nodded as though she’d decided something important. “Going to go get your things, or will you keep us waiting all day?” she said loud enough for the others to hear.

Your brain stopped working, unable to process the question, but the others had no such issues.

“Captain?” Sharon asked uncertainly, frown creasing her brow. 

“We takin’ men now?” Brunnhilde asked, obviously offended by the thought. 

Natasha shrugged and turned her back on you and Steve and sauntered leisurely over to the helm. “He’s one of the good ones. Besides, if he becomes a problem we can just throw him overboard.” There was a wickedly amused glimmer in her eye that had you a bit nervous. The unsaid _“with his pelt_ ,” hung in the air between the three of you. 

Natasha really was a Siren, then? And she knew that Steve was a selkie? 

When her sentence was met with silence, she gave them all a stony, cold stare. “So we’re to leave without (Y/N), then?” 

“No, ma’am!” rang out across the deck and you felt your heart skip a beat. Hearing how much your former crew loved you was- it was nice.

“So we’re to take her with us and leave the father of the child behind? You would condemn the child to that when the father is so obviously devoted and caring?”

“No, ma’am!” resounded across the crew, with more enthusiasm than you were expecting. 

Your crew- they’d accept Steve… for you and Sarah? 

You were probably more shocked than the rest of them as hot tears began to roll down your cheeks. By the time you took your first shuddering breath, Steve had his arms around you, careful not to squish Sarah, who was staring at her papa and mama and the people around her with wide blue eyes that perfectly matched her father’s. 

Steve placed a kiss to your forehead and brushed some loose hairs from your face, tucking them back behind your ear. He tilted your chin up and smiled fondly at you and used his big, rough thumb to gently wipe the tear tracks from your face, though they were immediately replaced by new ones. “Smile, Starlight. We’re home,” he said quietly. 

That had you smiling through the tears, a half-sob, half-laugh leaving your lips. “Yeah. We are.”


End file.
